


Isolation To Reunion

by calibratingentropy



Series: Family: Found, Fractured, and Reformed [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alternate Universe, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Hostile Work Environment, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Keith Is Fluent In Sign Language, Keith has Three Parents, Listed Relationships Are Fully Consensual and Loving, Pre-Canon, Prorok Is A Skeevy Bastard In This, Quad-sexed Ovoviviparous Marsupial Galra, Sexual Harassment, coerced sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 11:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15556833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calibratingentropy/pseuds/calibratingentropy
Summary: Separated from his partners and his young child, Thace must return to the Empire and his mission as a spy for the Blade of Marmora. After having found and created a loving family, he's never felt more isolated, but he must endure for the safety of his loved ones and the universe.An epilogue to Ménage à Trois, and a start of something new.





	Isolation To Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are! This was originally just an epilogue to Ménage à Trois, but I felt it worked better on its own, to stand as a bridge between Ménage à Trois and the next parts of the series (which will come along eventually). 
> 
> Fast Facts:  
> \--So, what happens when the philosophies of Victory or Death get mixed with Palen Bol, and valuing the lives of one's underlings is obviously not encouraged? A toxic mix where abuse of power is probably pretty damn common. And when failure carries such high consequences, the spectre of failing is enough to keep most soldiers acting conservatively, even in the face of terrible circumstances. Not every Commander is an asshole, but the assholes are probably a fair percentage of the total.

Prorok’s flagship felt like a threat. The other officers leered, and Thace keenly felt the cold of space. He knew he smelled like an anxious pouch-mother separated from his joeys, but at this point allowing those emotions could only improve his cover, so he let the feeling wash over him. 

It wasn’t long before Prorok boxed him in against a console, voice and scent soft and awash with sympathy that didn’t mask the scent of privilege and panting lust. But Thace was the lowest rank of Lieutenant and he couldn’t fight back. So he let it happen, ruthlessly crushing the revulsion and focusing on the grief instead. 

“Your pouch feels so empty, doesn’t it? Letting your joeys go and not being able to see them wounds so deeply.” A breath, a sniff, and a smear of warmth lingering over the approximate position of one of his teats. “I can help you regain that lost joy that duty so cruelly denies; pull a few strings. There’s an enchanting little morsel of a switch down in communications that’s just begging to be bred. We could both help them out. Just the thought of seeing you again, pouch so round and full makes me feel so… protective.” 

Thace wanted to rip Prorok’s throat out, but turned his head, displaying the tender spot on his neck, right beneath his jaw. “It’s… It’s too soon, sir. I want _my_ joeys back, not—“ 

Prorok warbled, but it didn’t do anything to disguise the lust, and the vicious certainty of victory. In this game, Prorok could afford to be patient, because the promise of protection was such a compelling one. Even Thace might have to give in someday to keep his cover intact, as disgusting as it was. 

It was hard to hold back the relief when Prorok stepped back. “I understand. Of course, it’s far too soon for you. But when you feel that need again, you know where to come.” 

Thace hid a wince as he pulled his claws out of his palm on relaxing his fist. The urge to reach for his blade had been so strong.

* * *

Prorok’s very well earned reputation meant that most skilled officers left as soon as they could. The few who stayed often shared similar desires. Plytox all but had ropes of drool coming off his chin whenever someone brooding a fertilized clutch was near, and Ylvik was a rare carrier in the fleet, by all accounts having happily carried several clutches sired by Prorok, and enjoyed the sexual attention. 

Thace could almost respect Ylvik for manipulating the corrupt system to his own gain. Almost. But mostly he was able to avoid the others like Prorok, and a few rounds in the training hall had more than proven his prowess enough to keep the equal and lower ranked officers in line. (Prorok only panted after him more.) So he’d risen fast and easily in the ranks. Even the coveted First Lieutenant position was easily in reach. Being a Lieutenant Commander was in itself something that pleased Kolivan, and Thace’s expanded access was earning the Blades so much information. 

But Thace desperately missed his partners and Keith, and he’d noticed that the messages were much delayed recently. It meant the relay was breaking down, and soon he’d have no more word at all. 

He needed _something_ or he’d crack from it all and that was what decided him. Krolia didn’t argue when Thace suggested that they arrange a meeting, even if she grimaced at the excuse. But going to help a brooding partner would have Prorok shoving him into a shuttle if it meant he could get a chance to coerce a pouch-mother into his bed afterward. It was too perfect an excuse. 

They met on a small asteroid outpost, manned only by easily reprogrammed sentries. Granveig was more in the vein of Sendak, and viewed taking precautions for reproduction as weakness, but had let Krolia go to keep his other officers from being distracted. 

At first, her arresting scent faded into the background as they were both swept up in grief. They just held each other for the first night and most of the second, and rewatched old messages together for the rest of that. 

Even if Thace had all but memorized every word and sign, watching the holos again with Krolia was different. For the first time in so long he felt like he wasn’t completely alone. 

Krolia pressed her face against Thace’s neck when the most recent one ended. “I know I shouldn’t, but I wish I’d never left.” 

Thace tightened the embrace they were sharing, and swallowed. “I’m going back. My mission will have to end soon enough. Even without the additional stressors, burnout happens so fast in agents who are meant to climb in rank.” 

She lifted her head, eyes shining violet with emotion. “I’m coming with you when you go and my own mission be damned.” 

“Good. I’d drag you otherwise.”

They nuzzled then, and tore off the clothes they’d only halfheartedly bothered to put on. Krolia trilled for him when Thace pressed his cock to her canal, and sunk teeth into his shoulder before he’d gotten halfway. Her expression was unashamed, and she muttered, “Mine,” as she licked the wound clean. 

The pain did little to slow his arousal, and perhaps he’d built up a tolerance with Kyle, because neither did the licking. The pleasure sang in his blood as Thace threaded his cock deeper, but mostly all he could think of was that she was here, and he could smell-feel-hear her. He wasn’t alone and even if it was just a scar, he’d carry something of her with him forever now. 

Thace bit her back, that thought ringing in his head. She groaned and trilled for him, clenching claws into his mane. “I want— I want—“ 

The scent of her brooding rose with her pleasure, and it didn’t take words to put it together. Children. Joeys. It was only the specter of Prorok that dampened his own desire in return. 

He was still gasping words in return in spite of it. “Anything. Anything; I’ll give it.” 

They peaked together, and Thace was intensely aware of what was missing. Kyle. He keened with the loss even through his own fading pleasure and Krolia joined him. 

When she was injecting herself with the drug Ulaz had provided on the last day of leave, she looked right at Thace, and said through gritted teeth, “Next time, we’re keeping the eggs. And we’re going home.” 

Thace could only agree, as he got into his ship to return.

* * *

Prorok had gotten more forceful in his advances after the meeting with Krolia. Thace wasn’t sure that he believed the excuse that she hadn’t caught, but there wasn’t really a better one. Leave was offered again, and again, but each time Thace found an excuse. Barely.

His career was most convenient, and even Prorok could only praise his performance. First Lieutenant meant a lot more work, and so many more opportunities to help the Blades. 

But it also meant interacting more directly with other Commanders and their Firsts. Thace had been quietly hoping that he never saw anyone from Sendak’s fleet again, but this meeting in Central Command was all but dominated by Sendak. 

Thace was standing at a respectful distance with the other Firsts and Sub-Commanders, and a slim form sidled up to him. Haxus. 

The smirk was expected, the bitterness was not. Haxus looked Thace over with distaste. “If not for knowing your foibles, I would never suspect you of being a degenerate who’s desperate to pouch-mother.” 

“Do I smell like I’ve carried any time recently?” Thace shot back. 

Haxus just bared his teeth, unwilling to admit the answer. Thace smiled. “Carrying scent is easy enough to fake with drugs, and Prorok can be led by the nose.” 

“I knew that,” Haxus snapped, then stiffened. “You… You planned this, didn’t you?” 

Thace just shrugged. “Prorok’s selfishness will ruin him someday. His fleet will need a Commander when he’s removed, and some careful management will make it an impressive force.” 

The scent of surprise was a reward on its own. More-so that Haxus choked on his response. “Perhaps I underestimated you. What did you really do on your leave?” 

Thace made annoyance clear in his scent. “I pouch-mothered; I wouldn’t risk the consequences of lying about that. But I also put others in my debt, and made favorable connections. And then being dismissed from Sendak’s fleet became a promotion in disguise. My investments are making good returns.” 

Haxus stared at him for a long moment, respect bleeding grudgingly into his scent. Unlike so many, Haxus appreciated intelligence and manipulation as much as, if not more than, brute strength. If nothing else, it would make Haxus more cautious about potentially crossing Thace, and it might even earn Thace a good word in Sendak’s ear, although he doubted that. 

Still, he was glad when the meeting adjourned, and didn’t linger long enough to discern the reason behind Sendak’s appraising look.

* * *

The switch down in communications was brooding and had conceived, Prorok had informed him. The implication was obvious. Thace was expected to pouch-mother (a part of him… missed it, but the thought of carrying a joey that wasn’t Krolia and Kyle’s also made his fur bristle) and Prorok had removed the option of making an excuse. 

If he had to do it, Thace was going to at least get to know the brood-mother, but he got snarled at when he got down to the relay room. The switch was indeed brooding, and over halfway through. The scent of misery and stress permeated the room. 

Thace wanted to reach out and give comfort, but his cover would be compromised. So he stepped back and held out his hands to show he meant no harm. “Commander Prorok has implied that I’m to pouch-mother for you.” 

For some reason that ignited anger. “Oh don’t you try to pretend you’re not eager for it to secure your position!” 

At least Thace had a pronoun preference for the switch now. Poor man. But the way that was phrased pushed Thace into snapping back against his better judgement. “The only joeys I _want_ in my pouch are my partners’! I will endure if I must, but—“

“Endure!” The switch swiped at Thace’s face with claws out, his fangs bared and a growl in his chest. “Everyone knows how much you enjoy it!” 

“Every moment I carried for _my partners_ was precious to me; that’s true. But I haven’t dared contact either of them in over a decade, because of Commander Prorok.” Thace answered the blank, uncomfortable look by elaborating. “My ex-commander put me out and threatened to have me sent to the Arena if I dared show my face after requesting carrying leave. Commander Prorok made an offer I couldn’t refuse. Delaying and turning aside his advances has been more work than running his fleet for him.” 

Something softened around the switch's eyes, and he curled an arm around his stomach. “And here I was, thinking… My apologies.” 

“I meant for everyone to think that,” Thace said with a shrug, “but that’s not what I came here to talk about.” 

“My genes are good—!” 

Thace cut off the protest with a shake of his head. “Your name would be a good place to start.” 

“Dronil,” came the reply, almost tentative. “Why _are_ you here?” 

“If I’m going to be carrying your joeys, I wanted to get to know you at least a little.” It sounded foolish now, but Thace wasn’t going to back down on it. 

“His joeys; I didn’t want this. I only relented because—“ Dronil looked away, and Thace could guess the coercion used anyway. Commanders had so much power over their soldiers; abuses of that power happened all too often. 

“What are your plans?” Thace asked.

“What plans? To endure, like you said. It’s not like I have a choice,” the sullen note of Dronil’s voice threatened to pull a warble from Thace’s chest. 

He had to ask, even if the thought was disquieting. “And if you had a choice?” 

“I'd have flushed the eggs the moment he left. I don’t have time! I never wanted to brood. I don’t even like the instincts.” 

Dronil started pacing during the rant, and Thace couldn’t ignore it. “I know a skilled medic, if that’s what you want.”

Dronil stopped to stare at Thace. “And what good would it do? A traumatic flush this late is likely to send me into a panic brood and I’m back where I started.” 

“Something would be included to prevent that, at least for a while. And playing up grief works wonders to fool Prorok.” Thace held still; it was a big decision for any Galra. 

Dronil’s eyes hardened. “Do it. Talk to your medic.”

* * *

Dronil proved to be clever and harboring more than a few anti-Empire thoughts. It was all too easy to fall into place as someone to ease the grieving after the flush was done, and Prorok ate it up, no doubt having fantasies of them coming to him to beg for another clutch sired. 

Kolivan had interest in the reports, and was going to send a different agent to probe where Dronil’s loyalties really lay without risking Thace’s cover. Until then, Thace was content to wait, and to spend time with the brilliant communications officer. Outside of the fleet, Thace might have even been tempted to call Dronil a friend. 

It was almost good, having someone to commiserate over Prorok with, regardless, but then the bottom fell out. 

Outwardly, Thace had to be supportive of the Arena, even though it was disgusting, and Prorok had ‘suggested’ he attend with Dronil. It was nothing new, and Thace was barely paying attention. New slaves as fodder for the Champion Myzax. 

Except the first one that came out of the slave pits was human. _Human!_ That meant the Empire had gotten close enough to Earth—

But he couldn’t do anything, or even show any emotion. Dronil noticed something, being less than enamored with the Arena himself, but at least had the grace to keep his mouth shut.

As soon as the fights ended, Thace got himself to a hackable console. It wasn’t hard to break into the first round of interrogation records and the names stopped him cold. He remembered Matt and Takashi as small, endearing children, and knowing that Colleen had lost her child and husband all at once… Thace indulged in a keen while he dug further. 

The only point of hope was that the Commander making forays into the system hadn’t bothered to go past the dwarf planet at the edge, which was where the humans had been captured with one of their own vessels. The Lion was safe, but not for long. 

Thace contacted Kolivan as soon as he was sure of what he was looking at and Kolivan’s control actually broke enough to show a hint of concern. But there was nothing he could do for the slaves, except for perhaps keeping the Empire away from their planet. 

It was unacceptable, and Thace took the risk of contacting Krolia and Ulaz with his news. Krolia keened when she heard, and Ulaz frowned mightily. Neither of them had an immediate solution, but eventually Krolia suggested using her position with Granveig. His territory was on the fringes, and had an active rebellion that was as tenacious as it was cautious. The rebels increased their numbers by raiding barrack ships. It was far from ideal, Krolia told them, but if Thace or Ulaz could get into the system when she put in a requisition for slaves and make sure the right names were added, it was better than remaining in Galra captivity. 

Thace had enough experience with humans to know that they would find it preferable, but it wouldn’t help Takashi. Perhaps if he’d lost (and not been killed in the process) the arena manager would have been eager to get rid of him, but a winner? Takashi wasn’t leaving the arena anytime soon. It made Thace feel sick. 

He’d take what he could get though. “Do it. I can get into the records and make sure the Holts are on there. …Is there anything we could do for Takashi?” 

Krolia just shook her head, but after a long moment of silence, Ulaz spoke. “I can keep my eyes open for opportunities to ease his situation without risking my cover. Until we have an opportunity and reason to help him escape, that’s all I can promise.” 

Thace understood the reluctance to act; he did. He couldn’t blame Ulaz for being cautious. “His file said he was a skilled pilot; that might be of use to us.” 

Ulaz blinked. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

They had to end the transmission after that, and Thace was left alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Time passed. Thace changed the requisition, but only one of the Holts arrived in Granveig’s territory. When he finally got a chance to look into it, he found out that Prince Lotor had taken an interest. Well, that was better than most situations. The Prince had always believed in adequate food and rest for those that contributed to his research. 

Both Ulaz and Krolia sent messages with updates. Krolia’s were more heartening. Matt had escaped during a raid, and Krolia had picked up a few scattered English words worked into a rebel code. How clever!

Ulaz’s reports, on the other hand… Takashi kept winning, and had earned the witch’s attention. His arm had been replaced, and the last report had said more was coming. Most curiously, Ulaz’s tone had changed, gotten less professional and more emotional. 

It was that tone that greeted him now, when Thace was able to slip away to answer the message. Ulaz sounded almost desperate. “I understand now; I’ve understood for a while. He’s so… Watching him fight against everything, even his own body, and continue to win. He makes me hope, Thace. We _need_ to get him out before his hope breaks, but I— Leader refused my proposal.” 

Thace didn’t even question the insubordination he was about to pull. “What do you need?” 

Ulaz looked startled, and then a grim smile passed over his features. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. I will need to wait for a good moment, but I can set explosives as a distraction, and Shiro could fly himself away. But I’d need overrides. Breaking in would take too long. And… coordinates to send him to.” 

“Give me a shift, and I’ll have the overrides you need. For coordinates…” Thace knew exactly where to send Takashi (Shiro… a nickname? Humans did that) and Kyle would help however he could. Kyle had promised to stay in the general area in his last message. In the same message he’d claimed he was leaving the Garrison for good this time and had accepted a position as head of the local town’s fire department, so he might have moved to be closer to that, but Thace didn’t doubt he’d be watching the sky when he could, so… The desert, near where Thace had touched down the first time.

* * *

It turned out that Ulaz couldn’t wait for an opportune moment. The Blue Lion had been located; and invasion was inevitable. Thace didn’t hear much from Ulaz after that, although he knew Ulaz was now manning their communications base, and there honestly wasn't time.

 _Voltron_ had returned, somehow managed to overpower Sendak, and then free a Balmera. More than that, it had become clear that the new Paladins (or at least two) were humans and one was Takashi. He wouldn’t have regretted his involvement to begin with, but that was all the more vindicating. Thace did what he could to misdirect and undermine Prorok’s efforts to capture them, and began taking more risks in gathering and sending information. 

It was only a matter of time before Prorok dragged them right into a direct conflict with Voltron, and Thace didn’t expect it would end well for them. 

Except… the fleet was recalled to Central Command. When Voltron attacked, it wasn’t even a decision that needed making to know that he’d pull down the shield. Thace’s only regret was that he didn’t have more time to do it neatly. Using his blade was sloppy and hurried, and left too much evidence behind, but what was done, was done. 

Now he was a Commander, and had both a fleet _and_ the witch breathing down his neck through her druids. Whether she knew and was trying to force a mistake or simply suspected, Thace knew he didn’t have much time. 

He was going to act. So he gathered the officers before him. Plytox and a few other egregious offenders, Thace immediately dismissed. (He almost regretted the loss of Ylvik at the Balmera. Almost.) The hard part was picking who to promote in their places.

The crew was tense and uncertain. Thace had made clear _why_ he’d dismissed everyone, but it was such a change from Prorok. He couldn’t blame them, and honestly, it was bias on his part. He despised how they’d acted. Promoting Dronil was similar bias, but at the same time, he was clearly the most skilled of the remaining communications officers. 

One of the others protested anyway. “So you were really just getting rid of the competition. Or is it threats to your partner that you were removing?” 

Thace wanted to rub his temples. There was really no good way to rebuff that statement. “Are you trying to say he isn’t skilled?”

Silence. 

Thace hid a grimace. “If any of you can honestly say that you haven’t formed friendships with at least one other fellow officer, step forward.” When no one moved, Thace continued. “No man is completely fair, but my intent is to promote on skill, knowledge and hard work, not favoritism. If you wish to climb in rank, you must earn it. Dismissed." 

Dronil was the last to leave the room, lingering with an odd look on his face. Thace couldn’t place it, and it worried him.

It wasn’t until the chime rang at his quarters (his old quarters, but Thace hadn’t gotten the smell of Prorok and coerced sex out of the commander’s suite yet) that he had any clues. Dronil was pressed against him in an instant, nuzzling his throat. 

The sharp tingle of want was burnt out by low, old grief almost instantly and Thace pushed the slimmer Galra away. “What are you doing?” 

Dronil went back easily, but his scent was fighting between relief and confusion. “So… you’ve really meant all you’ve said? You weren’t just biding your time, or… looking for someone to warm your bed?” 

There was a flicker of irritation hissing through the back of his mind, and Thace pinned one ear back. “I’m not fond of attempting to lie. I believe that the Empire and Galra can become better and stronger than the current state. The festering stains will need to be removed, and new ideals considered, but change is possible.” 

Dronil said nothing for a long moment, then he shook his head. “You’re going to get yourself killed; that’s skirting treason.” 

Thace could only shrug. “Probably. I wasn’t going to let that excuse force me into inaction. I wanted to change what I could, while I could.” 

“…oh.” Dronil looked almost touched, started to say something, and then thought better of it. Finally he stepped closer. “Trusting you that day has to be the best decision I’ve ever made.” 

“It still might kill you,” Thace shot back, and Dronil snorted.

* * *

He was caught; Thace had expected nothing less. He’d hoped he’d make it until the attack, but with the constant hounding, he hadn’t had time to remove the chip. Returning for it was highly risky, but the chip was something Thace needed to send his updates, so he’d taken the risk and ended up bound to a Druid’s interrogation table. 

His chest burned as he stumbled down the hallway. It hadn’t been a mistake or underestimation when his blade had been thrown at him, but it was past time for his part in the plan. He was dead or nearly so anyway, so the risks didn’t matter. 

It was a battle to keep his hands from shaking as he got into the system. The scent of his joey, his Keith, hung in the air for some reason, but Thace couldn’t afford to think on it. Probably a memory, a hallucination, called up by his mind as a self-soothing measure. Similar had happened a time or two during the interrogation, but each time the Druids had pulled him back out of his own mind. 

Druids had a particular, unnatural scent that unnerved at best, and it flooded into the room with a hiss of the door. Thace got the code in just in time—

But of course it had been changed. There were other ways around it, but he’d have to kill the Druids first, and that would be a monumental undertaking in his current state. He had to try regardless, and that was when a blur of red and white streaked out of hiding. A Paladin! A— _Keith?!_

His wounds made Thace slow (his shock made him slow), but between the two of them, both Druids were killed. 

A moment to breathe. Thace did, deeply, wanting to reach out and pull Keith close. His joey grown (a switch, as he and Krolia had guessed was likely) and a Paladin of Voltron. Thace wanted to claw whoever had let Keith into this kind of danger, because he was so _young_ still, but at the same time he was so ridiculously proud. 

Keith introduced himself, a furrow creasing his brow, and just slightly sharper than human teeth worrying at his lower lip. Thace wanted to say ‘I know’ but if Keith hadn’t realized on his own… Thace was dying; Druid wounds were all but impossible to heal, except by the Druids themselves. Perhaps it was better this way, in spite of the pain clawing at his heart. So he acknowledged Keith as a brother-Blade instead, and couched his thanks and relief in a statement about the mission. 

Keith was grim, but immediately moved to the door to dismantle it from opening and give them some time. His movements were quick and agile; he’d be able to make it through the maintenance access to the power conduit in time. That settled Thace enough to begin preparations to override the system and blow the hub. 

His joey was so bright, jumping to the correct outcome in an instant, but a spike of anxiety shot through his scent. Thace allowed himself the briefest of warbles as he explained that it was the only way. He wished it wasn’t, but breaking into the system would take too long, and wasn’t guaranteed to work.

Keith’s expression went distant, and he leaned in, scent filled with confusion and something on the verge of recognition. The door melted in the next moment (the Witch!) and Keith shot down one of the resonance spires to block it again. So brave. 

When he commented about being trapped, Thace explained the escape route and told him to go. Keith protested, a squeak coming from his syrinx, and protective anger in his tone. Thace warbled again, and took two steps closer before he thought better of it. He had to force the words out, telling Keith that his time was up in this life. 

It was obvious that Keith wanted to protest, but also that he understood. Still, he hesitated, mumbling something about honor as he leaned in. “Something’s— Why do I feel like I…?” 

The motion wasn’t fully realized, but Thace recognized it for a little headbutt, that familial gesture of comfort and love that he’d delighted in from Keith when he was small. In that moment there was nothing he could do but answer it, pressing their foreheads together, flush with love. For a moment he was back on Earth, Keith in his arms and Kyle (and Krolia, in the moment of fantasy) at his side. 

Keith gasped, and the scent of recognition sharpened. First his hands, and then his voice, formed into a familiar word. “Mama…?” 

It was an English word, but spoken with a softer version of Thace’s thick accent, made to fit better with the rhythms of Galran. How Keith had picked it up _that_ way, instead of with Kyle’s drawl, Thace didn’t know, but it stopped his heart. This was going to hurt so m—

The makeshift barrier to the door blew. They were apart in a moment, and Thace wrapped knowledge that his death was necessary for the mission around himself. “Go, please! I’m already dead; Druid wounds are fatal. And I couldn’t bear for you to be sacrificed for this too. There’s still time.” 

“No!” Keith’s voice rolled like thunder, and he summoned something to his hand. A Bayard. “We saved Shiro from one of those, so we’ll save you. I just found you; you don’t get to leave again!” 

He stumbled when it changed to a large energy weapon, and the beam was enough to collapse part of the deck above down. The Witch disappeared, but the sentries with her were all crushed, and even the Witch would have trouble getting through the collapsed deck. 

What else could Thace do? He began the overload, and then carefully clipped some wiring to disable the display. It wasn’t a difficult fix, but it would take time, and give another obstacle to get through, since he wouldn’t be staying to protect it personally. 

One thing became clear quickly. Keith’s thrusters weren’t enough to propel both of them fast enough. The explosion was going to overtake them, and Keith’s armor might be strong enough, but Thace’s wasn’t. 

“Stop.” Thace groaned when they touched down, and Keith looked like he was about to protest. “No. We’ll both die this way. There’s… a chance, if you can blast through the bulkhead there.” 

They were close enough to the external hull, and Thace knew they were about at the third deck right now, which had a few auxiliary airlocks for fighter-class dockings. Not every flagship could use the main ship-dock at once, after all. 

Keith was almost eager to bring out his Bayard again. This time, the weapon was smaller (perhaps he’d been fueled by need?) but it was enough to melt a hole through the metal. 

They couldn’t close it after them, and the explosion would ignite all the oxygen in a terrible cascade, so Thace braced himself against the weakness and started running. “Left, left, then right! Go now!” 

Keith could have outpaced him but stayed tight to his side, and lifted him when he fell. Thace’s vision grayed, but somehow they were still moving. The thrusters, Thace realized. He counted down in his head. 

Three, two, one—

Thace was shifted, and watched Keith slam a hand on a panel. They were through, and not even a breath after the airlock closed behind them, the hall was engulfed in flame. The airlock itself began to heat, but held. 

Keith sagged, but smelled happy. “We did it.”

Then, more loudly, carefully. “We did it. Guys, Thace and I are in an airlock, uh—“

“Deck three, auxiliary fighter class docks,” Thace supplied, trying not to succumb to the encroaching dark at the edges of his vision. 

“Thace is hurt bad and doesn’t have a spaceworthy suit, so I’m not sure…” 

“Don’t worry,” came another voice through the helmet speakers, “I think that won’t be a problem. Red’s coming for you. We’re downloading the virus; regroup as fast as you can.” 

Something clanged loudly against the external airlock, and Thace summoned all his will to stand. Then they were… he was in a Lion. Thace smiled in spite of himself as his knees gave out. 

“Even back then, the Blue Lion must have known…” 

Keith’s look and his scent was full of questions, but he settled at the controls. “Just rest; we’ll take care of Zarkon.” 

There was bitter edge in Keith's scent, full of old hurt, doubt, fear, and anger. The battle wasn’t over, and Thace knew that the reunion afterward would be bittersweet at best, but he had his precious joey back. 

With that knowledge, he could overcome anything, and he let himself give in to the exhaustion, trusting Voltron, his _child_ , to see the day won.


End file.
